Transcriber’s note: the following conversation is less conversation than it is a drunken riot. It is exceedingly difficult to identify distinct voices in the tumult and the background noise. As such, I was unable to offer the clear tagging of distinct voices that featured so helpfully in earlier conversation extracts. I heartily apologize for the confusion and/or inconvenience.

- Whoooooooo!- Easy there.- . . . and call me a nanny. I’ll scramble me brain in . . .- Captain, tell them to watch out.- Nice being up on th’ ship again, innit?- Pass that Rot, please.- What?- . . . I’m taking a trip mates. And drink another . . .- S’why they still hauling anyhow? - Pour out a little Rot for ol’ Anteas.- I said watch out!- You OK, chaplain?- And again, whoooooo!- . . . taste be the sort that’ll give you fits . . .- Don’t waste it you fuck. He’s fucken dead, right?- Damnit Elena.- For what?- Yes, I am fine. A little queasy, perhaps. I find the passage over cobblestones to be far more injurious to my constitution than that over waves.- Was my friend, he was. ‘Sides we gots plenty o’ Rot, we do.- . . . and tickles your brainbox. And smooths your skin . . .- For that horse.- S’just that you look a wee pale, you do. - Whooooo! Try and stop me you motherfuckers! Whoooo!- No excuse for wastin’ it. And thought you thought we wan’t dead?- What horse?- . . . Oh swive me silly and call me a . . .- I thank you for your concern. Perhaps it is that war does not agree with me, especially at close remove.- Privet-stviya!- Never mind. We squashed it.- Why’s everyone yelling?- . . . tell all me ship mates I’m taking a trip . . .- He’s gone, ain’t he? That’s enough for me.- For the love of gods, stop screeching girl.- Fuck he sayin’?- Good thing we’re leaving then, neh?- Squashed what - never mind.- . . . the ship it splits and becomes a fleet . . .- Anyone know Russian better’n me?- Ain’t screeching. M’hollering.- Not for me. You wanna pour out booze, pour out that vodka shite.- Mogu li ya podnyat’sya bort?- Noise is gonna kill us all, Canute.- . . . stuck in the midst of a sober . . .- Anyone knows it better’n you. - Who needs assistance?- Just stop it. Stop it.- You want to tell them to shut it?- Pour what I want to pour out. Didn’t deserve to be blown up he didn’t.- Ya Dmitri Mendeleev Ivanovich.- . . . drink another pint of that Norwegian Rot.- Holler if I want to. Ooooo - that’s pretty, it is.- Can’t understand a word this guy’s sayin’ but he’s all worked up and shit.- Hells no. But we got to finish this all up and soon. How much further?- Mogu li ya pozhaluista, prihidte na bortu?- Got to remember people. Got to keep them hear. With us.- Pretty? What’s pretty? No, damnit Elena!- What’s she doing?- Oh shit.- He says that his name is Dmitri Ivanovich Mendeleev, and that he would respectfully like to come aboard.- Elena, come back!- . . . it’s the swoop of gulls in the magnet . . .- Why’s she all on that guy with her fists?- Almost there, you got to tell the recruits they can take off soon as we’re in the water.- Why he want to come aboard?- Go you crazy lush, go!- She is fucking him up.- I scarcely think that’s a difficult question to answer - look around you. Is this not a situation you would wish to escape.- Pozhaluista, ya vas proshu.- Was that a tooth? That was a tooth right?- . . . the drink of popes. It’s Norwegian . . . - Shit, she is crazy.- Think they’ll care?- Don’t know if the cap’ll take to someone new comin’ on right about now. He’s getttin’ rid of all the recruits.- Hahahah. See. It’s pretty and now it’s mine.- Oh swive me silly and call me a nanny!- Don’t got room and anyway, here we are. - I do not think the captain has time to consider such things at this point. Prihodite na bort, moi drug.- That’s it? A fucken epawhatawhat? For that?- Brace yourselves everybody!- I’ll scramble me brains in this very spot.- Spasibo, spasibo.- It’s pretty and I wanted it and I got it.- Should probably introduce’m.- You got any idea what’re you gonna do? Looks like those’re guns behind us.- If I may interrupt you for a brief moment Canute, may I introduce you to Dmitri Ivanovich Mendeleev.- Fucken lunatic s’what you are babe.- Nice to meet you and you need a different name. Can’t be expected to pronounce that in times of stress. Like this specific one, for instance. Hold this for a second.- Chto eto za serebo veshch’?- Tell all me ship mates, I’m taking a trip mate.- Got to do something soon brother of mine.- Why’d he give that silver ball to that crazy beard dude? Guy looks like he spent months in the wilderness or something.- Sorry. No time. No time. It’s a pleasure, Dmitri or whatever. Pardon me while I guzzle this.- Never seen’m put away the Rot that fast.- The capn’s wasted! Whoooooo!- That can’t be your big idea.- Girl. Shut. The fuck. Up.- It’ll work. Best idea could come up with. If you don’t mind, I’ll take that back.- And drink another pint of that Norwegian Rot!- What’s happening? I can’t see.- Well I’ll be double-fucked.- All right everyone. Let’s get this mother turned towards the vortex. Hurry it up!- Whoooo!- One more time! Everybody! Oh swive me silly and call me a nanny . . .